Day 231

Sleeping location: Barn 1.274S 31.047E, Tanzania
Distance (km today/total): 62 / 14672
Estimated climb (m today/total): 1200 / 116600 
Problems: mounting

Day in three words: Africa’s worst village

In the morning the checkpoint guy (Franklin) explained that he was the chief and that there had been people talking about throwing stones at us in our initial camping spot, hence why he had moved us to a place with a guard. Packing up was a depressing experience as a million thoughts ran through my head. Have we made a mistake by leaving the haven of Uganda and Bunyonyi? Does everyone here basically hate us? Are we in actual danger or is it just talk? Will we be able to get home if we need to? Can I make Papa’s funeral and what will it mean if I do? All of this sat on top of my already somber mood until it felt like I had the weight of a fully loaded Maggie’s (45kg) sat in my chest. 

Before we left Franklin brought some food and asked if we would eat with him. He seemed like a decent guy who had made a mistake the night before and felt bad about it. We took his number as there were unlikely to be any hotels within cycling distance and maybe he could help us find a place to sleep. Our full stomachs then enjoyed kicking off the day with a brutal, groan-inducing, clothes-soaking climb. Helpfully it eased off after that and before too long came out onto a ridgeline and stayed on it. There were still lots of ups and downs and a bad surface but it was a lot more manageable now. Along here I saw a bright green snake slithering into the grass ahead, and a field of pineapples, which was quite a sight; lots of little spiky bushes with a single pineapple sitting high and proud in the middle of each one. I stopped to buy water in a little village and a weird rainstorm hit where it was sunny but also pouring it down. There was nowhere to shelter that wasn’t already full of people, and I was sure they wouldn’t like being close to Kovid Davey, so I just stood there in the rain like a twat, then cycled off into the rain like a twat. Luckily it stopped soon after. 

I stopped to wait for Rebecca in a little clearing but it wasn’t a good spot as there were loads of insects and a silent crowd appeared to stare at me, so I moved on to another spot up against a little church. A small crowd appeared again but they were more respectful and kept their distance. After a little while they came over and a guy who spoke English (Eliak? Unsure of spelling) talked with me and translated for the others. So far it seems people in Tanzania speak much less English than in Kenya and Uganda. After a short chat Eliak (?) left but then returned with a bag of tiny and tasty bananas for me. There is a confusing mixture of vibes here, sometimes I feel like an outcast and other times extremely welcomed. Once Rebecca arrived we continued along the ridge, which opened out and provided amazing views down to a wide flat plain far below, with a sinuous river shining in the afternoon sun. For good measure a rainbow then appeared in the middle of the view. It was incredibly beautiful.  

We reached a village about an hour before darkness and decided to ask about sleeping there. The market was on and was very busy so I went and asked if the chief was around, but everyone just stared at me or made jokes in Swahili. Eventually one guy helped but his directions to the chief’s house were vague and we ended up a bit lost, then subsequent people either wouldn’t help or didn’t understand. We decided to ask at houses if we could camp in their yard, and at the second attempt we found a nice young woman called Christa who spoke excellent English and helped us by calling some people. Whilst we waited for a response a crowd formed, with the children all covering their mouths with their hands because we were dirty mzungus. At sunset a small flock of bats suddenly appeared and the children, previously so concerned about catching a disease from us, TRIED TO CATCH THEM WITH THEIR BARE HANDS. Christ.

We were told that the chief wasn’t around so a random man introduced as his “assistant” took us to some kind of weird storeroom/bar with some wicker mats on the dirt floor. Initially we thought the “assistant” was a little quiet but we soon realised that he was actually just completely hammered. He kept coming back into the hut to glug down some more weird-smelling drink until he essentially collapsed at about 9pm and his friends had to take him to bed. Everyone in the village seemed to be drinking hard and people stayed chatting and playing music right outside the door until pretty late. We felt very exposed so we put some heavy things in front of the door and for the first time on the trip I slept with my knife nearby, just in case.